Vincent Fortesque (
thecountofthree) wrote2015-12-31 11:19 pm
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Entry tags:
(5) the other side
Characters: Claude, Vincent.
Date: June 17th, 1893.
Place: The Ganymede.
The sun’s burning low on the horizon when he ventures out into the city, hands buried in his pockets and his jacket buttoned up tightly around his frame. True, he’s been working with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows today, the heat in the office threatening to leave him dripping sweat all over his books. But with the Seine cooling down the inner districts of Paris, Vincent nevertheless feels better dressed in too much – even if sparse or at least, light might have been more… suitable. For the occasion, such as it is.
As he nears their designated meeting spot, he hopes to God that Claude hasn’t taken offense to his lack of reply. Or lost courage if such a thing is possible for a man like him – beneath that confident surface of his, Vincent is at least starting to think that his core might just be softer than one might think at first glance. The thought’s calming. Comfortable, in a familiar kind of way.
All the same, one might assume… since Vincent hasn’t even agreed to meet… With a slight frown, he pushes his hands even further into his pockets, the fabric straining in response. No doubt, there’ll be a few seams loose when he gets home later tonight but so be it – his mother already knows that he’ll be out tonight, that he’ll be… socializing. She hasn’t shown any interest in neither Claude nor their designation and really, regardless of the reason he can still be grateful, can’t he? For the fact that she hasn’t changed at all, overlooking when she ought to be scrutinize.
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Another broken, unfinished sentence, but surely the man will understand the message. Take pity on him. Sweat is beginning to pearl down his temples, over his brow and he dries off the worst with the back of his free hand. The other already tightening something awful in Vincent's hair. Pavel and he did something like this once, didn't they? Here. Not right here, but somewhere around... And yet, it was nothing -- like this. Dear Lord, have mercy.
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Christ.
Taking a deep breath, he finally reaches up with one hand, curling his fingers around the base of Claude’s cock. Guiding the whole length of it away from his body, he opens up wide and sucks the head into his mouth. The taste explodes on his tongue; arousal, sweat, fluids and skin. The scent of sex goes straight to his cock and he takes a moment to enjoy, to suck on the tip, saliva running down the shaft in slim, wet drops. Then, he complies – swallowing and going slow to avoid choking, he relaxes his throat and takes his cock in. Inch by inch, willfully ignoring the very instinctual urge to gag on it, his jaw straining all the way until he’s got his nose buried in Claude’s soft pubic hair. Filled up completely and utterly, his mind a haze of sensations, his free hand cradling Claude’s inner thigh hard.
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At the back of his mind, he remembers like an afterthought that none of his prior bed mates ever managed to take all of it. His length. When fluting him. They could suck him down their throat well enough, but this tight constriction, this... His eyes are falling closed, a slight groan escaping him despite his best efforts.
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Thus, he doesn’t waste many minutes keeping the other man on the edge. God knows he wouldn’t mind just staying here with his throat blocked out, with the scent and taste of the other man melting through his system. He’s getting all that he’s been missing for the past many weeks and more, his own cock positively soaking his breeches. How selfish would it be, then, to take and take without any thought to Claude’s desperate breathing, his plea for more, constricted only by their circumstances?
Relaxing his body and muscles once more, Vincent pulls back very slightly, then dives back in. Repeat. Repeat, until there’s a semblance of rhythm to it, a sense of in and out. The table and Claude’s hands aren’t leaving him room for too much but really, it’s blatantly obvious, isn’t it? That ‘too much’ isn’t needed anyway and isn’t that just a wonderful thought?